It is Samhain, Summer’s End in Old Irish. Halfway between the autumnal equinox and the winter solstice. A carpet of orange leaves swirls in a moaning wind, coats are pulled closer and eyes are narrowed. It is said that the veil between our world and the Otherworld is especially thin this night, and that the ghosts of our ancestors walk abroad. Offerings of food are given for favor or appeasement. Winter is coming and the light is waning toward rebirth. A harvest cycle promise of death and rebirth.
Straw harvest golems and pumpkins carved into the faces of spirits. Strange sounds carried on the wind. A frantic, masked ride down a deserted lane swirling with fall leaves. Winter is coming and the feel and smell of things is changing.
Warm friends are the best answer to a dark sunless night filled with the spirits of the dead.
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